When we moved, I packed up the plants I’d potted earlier in the summer into the car with me and the cat. Now my highway driving experience was, shall we say, minimal since 2001, when we moved to the city and I no longer needed to drive. Now I’d be on the highway for a good hour and a half, minimum. And the cat, well, he associates the car with the vet and hates any change to his routine. He was not a happy camper and yowled for a good hour, terrified and panting, and I was sure he was going to have a heart attack.
The tomatoes, however, were ok.
My lettuce didn’t make it, and all my beloved irises and lilies in the yard were destined to stay there. But the tomatoes, oh! They were so big, all three fruit, and I had been eagerly awaiting their ripening for a long while. They were pokey.
When we got here I put my pots on the porch. They got a little less sun than they were used to and seemed to hibernate. Then I found one on the sidewalk with a huge bite in it; evidently a raccoon or some other fiend decided to give it a taste, hated it, and left it where I could see it. I was displeased. But then what was left did, in fact, ripen, and Mr. Pea picked this little beauty yesterday afternoon. Isn’t she lovely? She’s almost too pretty to eat. There are a couple of tiny new tomatoes on the branches now but it’s kind of a race against time to see if they’ll actually grow and ripen. I’m not holding my breath, but after all the hassle of getting that plant here, I’d be more than happy if they made it.